


Hellfire

by AccursedLover



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/M, FFXV, OC X CANON
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 12:59:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12276960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccursedLover/pseuds/AccursedLover
Summary: The once pure Healer, Ardyn Lucis Caelum, was once a savior of the people. He has hopes, dreams, and even love. Eliza invades every waking moment of his adult life, and is on the verge of casting his calling aside.





	Hellfire

_Beata Maria, you know I am a righteous man. Of my virtue I am justly proud._

The days had been full of light for him. Healing the sick, aiding the poor, feeding the hungry; all of it came easily, like second nature in his blessed life. He had gone to many countries, offering his services to those afflicted with an unnamed plight.  Their skin had come to host dark, oozing patches that brought them agony of the highest order. The youthful man, the blessed healer-king, had sought to heal all who had fallen victim to this scourge of mankind. He was devoted to the Six, preaching to the masses about their mercy and insurmountable grace, and kneeling before the altar to pray at the start of every day. Indeed, he was the prime example of what a good follower should be.  However, things had begun to change.

_Beata Maria, you know I’m so much purer than the common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd._

He had been nothing short of devoted. For many years, he had been working in the names of the Six, doing as they had asked of him.  However, something within him had started to shift.  The day he had gone to a small village on the outskirts of the growing kingdom of Lucis, he met a rather strong-willed, heaven-eyed woman by the name of Eliza, Her mocha hair was as long and flowing as the River Wennath itself.  By the gods, she was as beautiful as the Glacian herself, perhaps even more so.  The fair maiden had been afflicted by the scourge, and she had been barely able to stand. Thanks to his healing abilities, she was cured.  He had continued to care for her, and the others in the village, until they could stand on their own.  On the day of his departure, he felt a piece of him break away; the maiden he had cared for, sweet Eliza, was the cause.

_Then tell me Maria, why I see her dancing there. Why her smoldering eyes still scorch my soul._

The young king had taken a knee before the altar, tears streaming down his face. He deemed himself weak, just like those he was tasked with saving. There was never a moment where the image of Eliza would disappear; her very presence would cause him to feel unclean. His mind was clouded by sinful thoughts, causing him to believe that his very soul was tainted. It was here, at this very alter, where he asked the gods a question,

“Why?” he lamented, “Why can I not cease these wretched thoughts. Tell me, O great Bahamut, Why can I not get her out of my head? Why am I suffering thus? Is this a test of faith?” There was no answer.

_I feel her. I see her. The sun caught in her raven hair is blazing in me out of all control._

The longing within him had not gone away as he had hoped it would.  Yet again, he found himself kneeling before the sacred altar, hands clasped in prayer. His eyes were no longer red from tears. However, they were shadowed with his deep desire.  The healer-king, once as pure as the winter snows, was no longer such. His wanton thoughts had consumed his every waking moment. He longed for her, lusted after her, and had begun to seek her out.  The images of her standing by him at dawn, the day he left, still flashed through his eyes whenever they closed. He was no longer able to control the feelings inside,

“Noble Gods,” he began, his voice no longer as sweet and light as it used to be, “My heart, the very soul within me, is still pure. Alas, my thoughts are not so,” He found himself smirking behind his clasped hands, “If you are there, O divine teachers, I do not apologize for what I aim to accomplish.”

_Like fire. Hellfire. This fire in my skin. This burning desire is turning me to sin._

He had left the dusty altar without providing an offering, which was an act of blasphemy in his kingdom.  He had mounted his steed, a Chocobo that was as black as pitch, and raced off to the village where Eliza dwelt.  For many hours, he had scoured the crude houses, claiming that he was sent by the Six to gain access. He was being driven mad as his search remained fruitless.  However, when he reached the final house, he saw her. The earthy-haired maiden that had bewitched him so well had been living along the outskirts of the village. Once they had made eye contact, a sweet smile fell into place upon his clean-shaven face,

“Hello, fair maiden,” he greeted sweetly, his voice was as syrupy as tree sap and as warm as the sun, “I hath been looking for you for an eternity,”  He had quietly ushered her into her home, where they had committed yet another blasphemous act; they had eloped upon her bed.

_God have mercy on her. God have mercy on me._

They had continued such scandalous meetings until the day he was deemed a monster.  He was hunted down, and dragged back to Insomnia a mile outside of Eliza’s village; he had come so close to his maiden, his Valkyrie, when he had been savagely attacked. He was taken to the square, with his lover and friends. to be executed.  His body was carried across the sea, to Angelgard, and tossed into the abandoned temple. They had sealed him inside.

The former Chosen King had been roused from his eternal slumber to find that he was alone.  Naked, cold, and terrified, he remained within the confines of the island, watching every sunrise and sunset through the tiny hole in the back wall,

“Gods, he cried, “Please, save me! I will do all that you request of me! Help me!” The memory of his death resurfaced; the memories of those who perished that day returned shortly thereafter.  The newly-labeled Accursed felt anger fill every fiber of his being.  However, when Eliza’s demise flashed through his mind, tears began to come. His body, covered in fresh wounds, began to tremble as sobs escaped him,

“Please,” he pleaded to the cool, night air, “Help _her_.” The sun finally began to rise as when the tears he shed dried out.  He curled up on the frigid, stone floor, and finally fell asleep.


End file.
